Kingdom of the Cursed (Kingdom of the Wicked #2)(73)

Fauna seemed to think we wouldn’t hear about who was hosting for a few more days, but I had other suspicions. I had no base for the fears that kept growing, so I did my best to ignore the air of foreboding that settled over me like a storm cloud.

My friend called for tea and sweets and lounged in my receiving room with a book. I tried to relax the same way but was wound too tightly. After my encounter with Envy in the garden, I’d combed through books on magic, searching for a way to break a curse or hex.

It was complex—I’d either need the one who’d cast it to release me, or figure out the intricate structure of the curse; it was described in one grimoire as being similar to a series of magical threads woven together. I’d have to locate the source knot, then snip it. If I guessed wrong or undid the wrong knot, I could end up magically snipping the thread of life. And die.

The author of the book on hexes made sure to point that out several times, as if anyone could mistake the meaning of “snipping the thread of life.”

I’d briefly contemplated visiting the Matron of Curses and Poisons, but I’d still face the very real possibility of death if she didn’t locate the correct thread.

It was a gamble I was unwilling to try. At least not yet.

I wished Anir would show up and start our lesson early. The physical training would help burn off the excess nerves. And I desperately needed to rid myself of jitters.

Finally, late into the evening, a servant delivered the envelope I’d been dreading. There was no royal crest, no indication of what it contained, but I knew. My name and title were the only bit of writing on it. Indicating it was not just a note from the prince of this royal House.

I took the envelope from the servant with the same level of enthusiasm as if it were news of my execution. I used the slim dagger Wrath had gifted me and ran it along the upper edge, neatly cutting it open at the seam.


YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO

House Gluttony

FOR THIS BLOOD SEASON’S

Feast of the Wolf.

GUEST OF HONOR:

LADY EMILIA DI CARLO, CURRENTLY OF HOUSE WRATH



If my heart pounded any harder, it might crack a rib. I’d been told I’d have a choice, even if ultimately I’d be encouraged to choose the hosting House. I couldn’t help but fear other rules would be tossed aside at the last minute, too.

I stared at the invitation, its elegance a severe contrast to the panic it induced. My being chosen as the guest of honor wasn’t a surprise; Wrath had already made it clear I’d likely be the unlucky one, but seeing it in black and white made the whole thing terribly real.

Especially the part about my greatest fear or a secret of my heart being forcibly wrenched from me in front of the entire assembly. With Wrath’s “lessons” and the mortification and horror they brought fresh in my mind, I felt as if I was going to be sick.

“What is it?” Fauna set her book aside. “Has his highness sent for you?”

“No.” I blew out a breath. “It’s the invitation to the Feast of the Wolf.”

“So soon?” She shot up from the divan, thrusting her hand out with excitement she couldn’t contain. “Who’s hosting this season?” I gave her the card and her mouth formed a perfect O of surprise as she scanned it. “House Gluttony. Interesting. His parties are legendary for their debauchery. Envy and Greed must have removed their requests to host.”

“I imagine the Prince of Gluttony’s got quite a bit of food.”

“Not only that. His House is indulgence on every level. Alcohol flows from fountains, clothing is optional in his twilight garden, and trysts are often done in glass rooms lining the ballroom. There is no such thing as clandestine in his world. All is available for consumption: flesh, food, drink, carnal desire, and any manner of vice. This should be quite an event. Did you already know he’d be hosting?”

“This is the first I’ve heard anything. Have you attended one of his parties?”

“No. Last time he hosted, I was too young. I’ve always been curious. Some of the stories have taken on a surreal, fablelike aura. It’s hard to know what’s real and what’s pure fantasy. Especially with what that writer printed about him in her latest royal exposé.”

“I imagine columnists have much inspiration.”

“Oh, they do, and she does in particular. She positively detests him. Rumor claims he ruined her cousin’s chance to marry into the nobility, which is why she took up the cursed pen. So much scandal!” She happily sighed, then drew her brows together as if a new thought suddenly rained on her sunny daydream. Her focus moved over the invitation once more. “What fear do you think will be wrenched from your heart?”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it will be horrible.”

“Maybe we can work on something that won’t be too awfully bad.”

“If only worrying about how to dance at a ball without stepping on toes and causing a scene was my biggest fear.”

My nerves about dancing weren’t exactly a lie. I’d never attended a royal ball or formal dance. We’d only danced at festivals with other people of our station. Everyone here would be watching, judging. It shouldn’t matter what they thought or if they laughed at me, but when I thought of standing there, feeling raw and exposed, my stomach clenched.

“You are a genius!” My friend slowly turned to me, her face splitting into a huge grin. “We can look into a spell or potion for you to take. We will make you the worst dancer in all the Seven Circles, worthy of your biggest fear.”